


Hazard

by pene



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine, the Marquis of Anderson, wins a young Viscount in a game of hazard. </p><p>Very directly based upon Georgette Heyer's short story of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have overlooked the political complications involved with not only same sex marriages but also people of various ethnicities in a regency setting and have just thrown Kurt, Blaine, Mike, Artie, Puck, Sam and (in later chapters) Rachel and Finn at the plot.

The boy stood still in the candlelight. He appeared perfectly composed, his breathing steady and his shoulders set.

Although he was dressed simply, his waistcoat fitted him to an inch and his half boots and breeches drew attention to his long legs and coltish elegance. He had been roused from his bed chamber by his half-brother with no regard for decorum but he had clearly taken the time to ensure his attire, at least, was unexceptionable. 

He did not look at his half-brother, or indeed at any of the men seated in the long room. He was, however, aware of precisely who was present. He had taken them in with a swift flicker of his eyes as he entered. 

Lord Puckerman was sprawled unselfconsciously in a high backed chair. His legs were splayed and the hand holding his wine glass tipped precariously. Sir Michael Chang stood beside the fireplace tapping a foot rhythmically while shifting his hips in an aimless way, his usual grace only slightly encumbered by his acute inebriation. Beside him was seated Mr Samuel Evans, rosy cheeked and giggling while carefully examining the platters of food before him for salted quail eggs which he was rolling down the table toward the open mouth of the Honorable Arthur Abrams. At the other side of the table was Blaine, the Marquis of Anderson. The marquis’ cheeks were flushed, his dark curls were riotous in disarray and his ordinarily exquisite cravat was rumpled. There was a wild look in his bright eyes. 

The boy’s half-brother, Sir Sebastian Smythe, was lounging at the head of the table, loose limbed but unmistakably drunk. His eyes were bleary and his cravat was unsalvageable, though it was doubtful that it had looked significantly better when he dressed. Before him, the tablecloth was stained wine red. He was having little luck attempting to pour more wine into his glass and it was clear from his dark expression and the empty table before him that the luck had run against him in other ways too. Once his glass was full he thrust the bottle aside roughly. 

“Do we intend to play further?” Sir Sebastian was slurring but his voice held its customary hint of irony. “This is my home, but unhappily I am at low tide. It appears I have nothing left to wager.” He took a laughing breath. “Nothing to wager save for my young brother here.” He waved a lazy hand toward the boy.

The boy took an almost imperceptible breath. The marquis lifted his eyes to contemplate Sir Sebastian from under dark brows. Mr. Evans looked up from his contemplation of the food with an arrested expression.

“That’s the young Viscount there,” Sir Michael said wisely. “He means to wager with Kurt, Sam.”

“You may be right, Mike. Though as I recall, Kurt is not his brother. The last time I thought it through Sebastian was Kurt’s half-brother,” said Mr. Evans a little ponderously. “You remember, man, Sebastian’s mother married Viscount Hummel.”

“Much use that precious title was to a countrified gudgeon,” said Sir Sebastian viciously. The marquis’ eyes shifted from Sir Sebastian to the boy. “And Kurt may be my half-brother but he is also my ward. Aren’t you, my dear delight?” 

The boy’s eyes flashed but he did not reply.

“You can’t stake Kurt,” said Sam slowly. “It’s not right.”

Lord Puckerman lifted his head and eyed Sir Sebastian, “Too hard to establish a price, Smythe. I shouldn’t bother.”

“Confound it, Sebastian, you’re foxed,” added Mr. Abrams. “You can’t-"

Sebastian laughed wildly. “You won’t cover me? Puckerman? Sir Michael? None of you will have my pretty lady-bird of a brother?”

Mr. Evans stood, swaying slightly. “No one will cover you, Sebastian. It is too absurd.”

Sebastian turned his glance to where the Marquis of Anderson lounged. The marquis’ body was relaxed but his hazel eyes were fixed on the young Viscount.

“What about you, Anderson?” Sebastian drawled, ugly challenge in his eyes. “Will you refuse to cover me in this?”

The marquis turned his head. “I, refuse?” he said dangerously, the light in his eyes as reckless as ever. 

“Blaine,” said Mr. Evans urgently. “Blaine you are half sprung. You cannot mean this.”

“I am significantly more than half sprung, Sam. But drunk or sober everyone who knows me knows I never refuse a wager.” The marquis stretched an arm to the various scraps of paper for the money he had won lying beside him on the table.

“Cover then,” said Sir Sebastian harshly. “What’s the boy worth?”

Anderson tossed a crumpled handful of notes toward the centre of the table. 

“Have you gone mad, man?” asked Sir Michael. 

“Perhaps,” said Anderson, his wild eyes not on Sir Sebastian but on the boy who stood in the half-light with every appearance of composure. “Your roll, Smythe.”

The young Viscount’s gaze shifted to the table as his half-brother rolled the dice.

“Cinque-ace,” said Mr. Abrahams, frowning.

Anderson took the dice into his hand and turned them between his fingers before rolling.

“Quatre-trey,” said Mr. Abrahams.

“Can’t bet against Blaine when he’s in this temper,” said Mr. Evans. “He has the devil’s own luck.”

Sir Sebastian looked at the table. His cheeks had developed an unbecoming flush. The young Viscount didn’t look at him. Instead he took a breath and walked around the table to bow gracefully before the marquis. The Marquis held out a hand. “Will you come, Kurt?” he asked recklessly.

“I will, sir,” said the boy and took the marquis’ hand.

“Call me Blaine. I am rather drunk, I’m afraid.”

“Yes. I’m quite aware of that,” said the boy.

Blaine smiled at him. "Admirable spirit, my boy," he said softly.

Sir Sebastian looked up. “You cannot leave, ward,” he said. His voice was slurring and ugly.

Kurt shifted his clear gaze to his half-brother’s face for the first time. “I can and I will.”

“By God, if you leave you will never return to this house,” said Sir Sebastian.

“Then I will never return,” Kurt said dispassionately.

Sir Sebastian reached for Kurt roughly. Kurt stepped away neatly as Mr. Evans stepped forward and Lord Puckerman pushed back his chair and stumbled to his feet. Kurt waved them to sit down. 

He turned to Sir Sebastian and spoke quietly but with steady voice. “Sir, I have been your ward for three years. You must be aware I would rather die than spend another night in this house with you.”

Blaine narrowed his too bright eyes. He was still holding Kurt’s hand. 

“We shall go then,” he said. 

Kurt eyed him carefully. “If we are indeed going I had better collect my coat.”


	2. Chapter 2

The postilions and coachman were understandably stunned to see the Marquis leaving Sir Sebastian’s house in the company of the young Viscount. Blaine stumbled slightly as they traversed the steps and Kurt took his arm for support. 

“Where are we headed, my lord?” asked the coachman.

“To Scotland. To Gretna Green!” announced Blaine with a slightly wild laugh. 

The coachman took a breath as though to argue. He thought better of it but he shook his head anxiously as Blaine handed Kurt into the vehicle then followed him in. 

Blaine slouched into a corner and eyed Kurt. “I’ve a mind we will regret this in the morning, my dear,” he said, closed his fine eyes and promptly fell asleep.

The coachman overheard and couldn’t disagree. Moreover there was no chance they would reach the border that night. Still, he had not previously seen the Marquis in such a reckless temper and he valued his job too highly to disobey a direct order. 

The coach took the narrow roadways at speed. Inside Kurt could not sleep. He held his hands together in his lap and watched the sleeping Marquis jolt next to him for many miles. He paid at the posting gates with coins he pulled from the Marquis’ voluminous pockets. 

At length the coachman made the decision to stop at an inn. The landlord, roused from his slumbers, muttered incoherently but found the required rooms for the travellers.

“I knew the Marquis of Anderson was a wild ‘un,” he said to his wife later. “But to be sure I did not expect this of him.”

**

Blaine didn’t wake until after nine. The curtains were insufficient to entirely block the morning sunlight. He forced his eyes open painfully and blinked at the ceiling. It was unfamiliar so he rolled over and frowned, looking about the room. Ultimately he rang for the landlord.

“What place is this, sir?” asked Blaine. 

“This is the White Hart, my lord.”

Blaine contemplated this momentarily. “Which White Hart?” he asked. “I must know half a dozen.” 

“The White Hart at Stockton, my lord. We are a respectable establishment here.”

“I am very sure you are,” said Blaine. “Why the devil are we at Stockton?”

The landlord ignored the blasphemy and the question. “You arrived with no luggage, my lord,” he pointed out. 

“Yes, man, I see that.”

“The young gentleman asked me to tell you he is partaking of breakfast in the private parlour.”

“The young gentleman?” said Blaine. He frowned. The events of the night before began to make their reappearance in his consciousness. He ran his hands through his curls. “What young gentleman?” he asked, already knowing he would regret the question. 

“The young gentleman what is accompanying you, my lord. He slept in the adjoining chamber.”

“The young- Damnation!” said Blaine. “I apologise-“ he said to the startled landlord. “But damnation! What have I done?”

The landlord eyed him askance but continued unabated. “My wife has made a very good breakfast for the two of you gentlemen. Would my lord like to shave before his breakfast? I have a very good boy here and you may borrow my blades.”

“Thank you. Send him in,” said Blaine. He considered it would be easier to face the world feeling at least moderately human. “And would you apologise to the young gentleman in your parlour and advise him that I will join him for breakfast in a half an hour, if it pleases him.”

**

The young Viscount was seated at the table when Blaine entered the parlour. Despite the circumstances the boy looked as precise as if he had brought his own valet with him, his clothes uncreased and his hair perfect. The sunlight settled sweetly on his skin. 

In contrast Blaine could not be said to look his best. He was cleanly shaven and his clothes had been pressed but his skin was pale and his eyes had lost the reckless light of the night before. He looked all of his 21 years, worried and serious. He gazed at Kurt for a moment and sighed faintly as he entered.

Kurt looked up. He bit his lip but spoke steadily.

“Good Morning. I took the liberty of ordering breakfast, my lord.”

“Please call me Blaine,” said Blaine automatically.

Kurt inclined his head. “Will you have tea?” he asked. 

Blaine nodded, absentmindedly. “Kurt, what happened here?” he asked. “I cannot quite put all the pieces together in a way that makes any kind of sense.”

“You were foxed, Blaine, badly foxed.”

“I am aware of that,” said Blaine ruefully. “But was I drunk enough to abduct you from your brother’s house?”

Kurt looked down at the table. “No. Be assured I came with you quite willingly,” he said quietly.

“What in heaven’s name prompted you to do such a thing?” Blaine asked. “Here, alone, without your brother’s protection? It will be impossible to avoid gossip. You are underage.”

“My brother’s protection?” said Kurt with a level of disbelief. “Yes I am underage. However I am seventeen and I have managed my father’s estate much of my life. Soon I will be eighteen and I will have charge of that estate, hopefully before Sebastian runs it to ruin with dissipation and weakness of mind. He has afforded my estate no protection. He has afforded me no protection. You have not, perhaps, seen what he is. But you must know, now. You saw he was willing to wager me.”

“You should not have had to suffer that indignity,” said Blaine, looking at Kurt with penetrating eyes. “But now, here alone with me. There will be scandal. I do not know how I can protect you from this.”

“Yet you assured me that your intentions were honourable,” said Kurt with an unfathomable look.

“Honourable?” Blaine said weakly.

“You clearly indicated that you were taking me to Gretna Greene. As your husband I am confident you could protect me from gossip and scandal.”

“Kurt.” Blaine took a breath. “Kurt, the announcement of my engagement appeared in today’s papers.”

Kurt blanched slightly. However his voice did not shake as he continued. “Then, my lord, I cannot imagine what prompted you to take my brother’s wager.”

“I was drunk, Kurt. And in that state my only thought was of what I so badly wanted. I quite forgot my duty.”

Kurt looked at Blaine for a clear moment. 

Then he spoke. “Never mind, my lord. I was only punishing you a little. It was not a pleasant night, my half-brother is not a pleasant guardian. I was angry and I took the opportunity to escape. In part, I am sorry for that. At least, I am sorry that I involved you in my family predicament. But you have long afforded me more courtesy than my half-brother and I thought-.”

“Kurt-“ said Blaine, reaching out a hand toward the boy. 

Kurt drew his hand away and into his own lap. 

“If you will simply return me to London, my lord,” Kurt said. “My former tutor will, I think… will certainly take me in. He can engage me to teach music and etiquette. And Sebastian cannot fritter everything away in so short a time.”

“Tutor- Kurt, can I not take you to family?”

“I have none,” said Kurt, lifting his chin. “And I will not return to that man.”

“No.” Blaine was shaken. 

After a moment Kurt spoke again. “Will you eat something? There is a creditable ham, or some hot rolls.”

“Thank you,” said Blaine mechanically.

“Tell me, to whom are you engaged to be married?” asked Kurt. 

“Miss Rachel Berry,” said Blaine. “It is an arrangement of long standing. I cannot in good conscience withdraw from it.”

“It is a matter of the heart?” asked Kurt as though he was inquiring about the weather.

“No. But I- No.”

The sound of a coach crossing the gravel path outside brought conversation to a halt. Blaine looked out the window and made a muffled exclamation. Kurt looked up quickly.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“It is Miss Berry,” said Blaine. “She is here. She has somehow followed us. What will we do?”

“You must be mistaken,” said Kurt, struck.

“Do you think I do not know the person I am engaged to marry?”

A moment later a girl tumbled into the room. She was dressed in an ill-advised bright apricot with cherry ribbons but she was pretty. Her hair fell about her face in glossy brown ringlets. She looked at the Marquis.

“You!” she exclaimed, her large dark eyes horrified.


	3. Chapter 3

“Indeed how could you, Anderson?” Miss Berry said, her eyes almost comically wide. Kurt stepped back quietly and seated himself at the table. She appeared to hardly notice him.

“Please. Be seated. Let us have no vapours today, Rachel.”

“How could you?” she said again. “Oh I do wish I were dead!”

“Rachel, Miss Berry, will you please be seated. I will explain the whole to you, I assure you. But keep your voice down if you wish to avert a terrible scandal.”

“Scandal,” Miss Berry cried. “I care nothing for scandal. People may say what they will against me and I will stand firm as the oak! But indeed Blaine it is cruel to find you here.”

“I know,” said Blaine. 

Miss Berry sobbed loudly. “You must think it very wrong in me.”

“No, no,” Blaine hastened to reassure her. “Don’t distress yourself, Rachel. Indeed I will endeavour to make you happy,” His voice cracked a little.

She sobbed again. “No, no. I cannot. You think me terribly wicked I dare say?”

It occurred to Blaine that this conversation was quickly moving in an altogether unexpected direction. 

“I… think you wicked,” he repeated, considering her.

“Oh I know. But truly I cannot! I will not go with you.”

“Then may I ask what it is you intend to do?”

Miss Berry drew a breath. “I am going to Gretna Green!” she announced.

“For heaven’s sake,” said Blaine. “Why on God’s green earth should you go there?”

“You cannot stop me Blaine,” said Miss Berry in dramatic accents. Blaine chanced a glance at Kurt who was regarding Miss Berry with lively astonishment. Blaine was almost overcome with what would have been highly inappropriate laughter. 

Fortunately for his composure, at that moment another person burst into the room. He was a handsome young man, with a pleasant countenance and a strapping build. His stance immediately proclaimed him the soldier.

“Excuse me sir,” said Blaine. “This room is privately occupied.” 

He stepped forward to usher the man out but Miss Berry gasped and flung herself toward the young man. 

“You will not hurt him,” she cried. “If I must I will sacrifice my last breath! Captain Hudson! This is Anderson. In the flesh.”

“In the flesh indeed,” said Kurt. Blaine glared at him quellingly.

“I thought it must be,” said Captain Hudson. “If I might be allowed to explain, my lord.”

Blaine could do nothing but glance at Kurt, bemused, and then nod. “Proceed, sir.” 

“I am aware that this must appear highly irregular. But believe me, my lord, I would not wish it to be so. You are a sensible man, as I comprehend. And perhaps you do not understand the madness of the heart.”

“In truth, I am increasingly aware that I do,” murmured Blaine. Kurt eyed him guardedly.

“I am indeed sorry it should be so,” said Captain Hudson. 

Miss Berry added, “In time your heart will heal.” 

“This is true,” muttered Kurt disobligingly

Blaine looked between the three people in the room, utterly perplexed. “Please go on,” he said to the Captain, with admirable calm.

“The truth is-” continued Finn.

“I love him!” said Rachel in ringing accents. “Indeed I am sorry, Blaine, but Captain Hudson is the man I love.” She stepped into Captain Hudson’s arms.

Blaine gazed at them.

“I know, I know I am shattering your heart,” said Miss Berry. 

“I have interrupted an elopement?” asked Blaine. “I- an elopement!” He was dumbstruck. He inhaled and endeavoured not to look at Kurt though he was keenly aware of his presence. “An elopement… Ah. Well far be it from me to stand in the way. The course of true love awaits. May I suggest that you be quickly on your way?”

“But your poor heart,” Miss Berry began.

“My heart will never stand in the way of such devotion,” said Blaine with every appearance of heroism.

“My lord, your generosity does you great credit,” said Captain Hudson, clearly moved though not releasing his beloved Miss Berry.

“But what is this, Anderson?” continued Miss Berry apparently intent upon exacerbating the situation. “Papa assured me that I must marry you. Indeed your mama agreed. They told me you were too dreadfully in love with me. What could I do but accept your proposal?”

“Quite right,” murmured Kurt. 

Miss Berry continued. “However ultimately I found that I must needs listen to my heart. And Finn, that is, Captain Hudson obliged and came to my aid.” She smiled up at the Captain adoringly.

“That is admirable, Miss Berry. I wish you every imaginable happiness. I do rather wish that you had come to this realisation prior to the announcement of our engagement being published in the daily paper. But such it is.”

“Gracious,” Miss Berry said from the safety of Captain Hudson’s strong embrace. “I had not looked for such selflessness in you, Blaine.”

“It is greatly to your credit, my lord,” said Captain Hudson. 

“Well then. That is sorted. I apprehend that you will wish to be off,” said Blaine. 

“Oh yes,” said Kurt. “You cannot risk having Miss Berry wrested from you, Captain Hudson.”

Miss Berry let out another sob at the mere suggestion of being wrested from Captain Hudson and in a moment the amorous couple had departed the parlour. Blaine watched them into the coach. 

“Thank you,” he said, turning to Kurt.

Kurt was already laughing irrepressibly, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. “Your countenance,” he managed by way of explanation. “Not to mention your poor heart.” Blaine laughed too. 

“I do wish them well,” said Blaine eventually.

“Of course,” said Kurt.

“They have something wonderful in one another.”

“Yes.” Kurt's eyes were unfathomable.

Blaine seated himself in the chair neighbouring Kurt’s. 

“I will ring for tea,” he said eventually. 

“After which, should it suit, I would ask that you convey me to London,” said Kurt. 

“Yes. Certainly,” said Blaine. “A Gretna Green affair is not what I would wish for you.”

“Nor I,” said Kurt quietly. “Nor I.”

“We will need to arrange a special license. I thought until the arrangements are made I could fix for you to stay with my mother.”

Kurt looked at him carefully. “It does not appear that a special license will in fact be necessary as we are not getting married my lord. You must know I accompanied you in anger, Blaine. It was a- a joke of a thing. I did not intend for you to be entrapped into a marriage.”

“Kurt,” said Blaine. “I am aware the circumstances of our arrival here were not opportune. But you have in no way entrapped me.” He paused for a moment. “Perhaps I have not made it clear that you are all I have thought of for some time.”

Kurt frowned in thought. “Indeed. I did think that you were not indifferent to me.”

“Indifferent? No. No, indeed I was not indifferent. Kurt, you must know I have been in love with you for these many months.”

“Oh,” said Kurt. “Yes. I quite see.”

“Dare I- dare I hope that my feelings are returned?” asked Blaine.

“Yes. Of course they are,” said Kurt simply. 

He looked at Blaine with clear, still eyes. They leaned almost synchronously toward one another and their lips met. Kurt’s hands flew to Blaine’s face. His thumbs brushed Blaine’s cheekbones softly. Blaine wrapped his hand behind Kurt’s neck to pull him closer. The kiss was sweet and it was a beginning and neither the Marquis nor the Viscount had breath left to talk for some time.

When at length they broke apart the young men smiled dazedly at one another. 

“I never dared hope,” said Blaine softly. 

“Nor I,” said Kurt. “But indeed Blaine it is too much. You cannot deposit me with your mother. What will she say?”

“She will love you,” said Blaine, hoping he spoke the truth. “She will take you to parties. She will march you about to all the finest tailors - Weston, Schweitzer and Davidson, Bond Street, Savile Row and buy you clothes.”

“Oh,” said Kurt sounding rather dazed and leaning into Blaine’s shoulders. “But I cannot allow it,” he said firmly. “Your mother cannot spend money on me.

“Of course it will all be held on account,” said Blaine. “After all in six months you will be a man of significant income.”

Kurt nodded. “I believe I will need to speak with my father’s lawyer, that is, with my lawyer. He will know how to rein in Sebastian’s spending.”

Blaine nodded against Kurt's hair. “That sounds wise.”

“Oh Blaine, Savile Row,” said Kurt dreamily. 

“Is that all that you are anticipating with pleasure?” asked Blaine darkly.

“No indeed.” Kurt turned his head and eagerly claimed Blaine’s lips. “I have heard that the Moore brothers make a wonderful boot,” he added.


End file.
